Along Came a Vampire
by Philip S
Summary: Excedo Inferi 8: As Sebastian Khan begins sizing up the opposition facing him in Sunnydale a very heartbroken vampire returns to the city on the Hellmouth. What’s a demon to do when the woman he loves leaves him? Why kill somebody, of course.  Completed
1. Part 1 of 12

Along Came a Vampire (#8 of Excedo Inferi)  
by Philip S.

Summary: As Sebastian Khan begins sizing up the opposition facing him in Sunnydale a very heartbroken vampire returns to the city on the Hellmouth. What's a demon to do when the woman he loves leaves him? Why kill somebody, of course.  
This episode is my universe's version of Lover's Walk  
Spoilers: Slight spoilers for Lover's Walk  
Rating: R  
Disclaimer: The characters portrayed herein are property Joss Whedon and Warner Brothers. The story and all original characters belong to me.

#

Previously on Buffy the Vampire Slayer:

Problems are piling up for Buffy, Angel, Faith, and their friends. Strange things are happening in Sunnydale as the Mayor prepares for his big day, with none of the Scooby Gang having a clue about what's going on. With a spy in their camp, Buffy's tutor Danielle Burg, the future looks bleak for Sunnydale's defenders. 

Additionally there is a new vampire master in town. Sebastian Khan, a sorcerer in life, shares some sort of past connection with Richard Wilkins, one that has him looking forward to evening the score with him. No matter who gets in the way.

#

Part 1:

Hell - Beyond the City of Dys:

It took weeks, maybe months, until they remembered each other's names. For most of that time they hid in caves, huddled together like frightened animals. Neither of them could remember what they were hiding from, but they both knew that they had just managed to escape from something terrible. Something that might yet try to hunt them down.

The process was slow. Even as they hid themselves in caves their sanity had hidden away as well, retreating before the terror they had been subjected to during their imprisonment. The Furies had done unspeakable things to both of them and the only way to survive was to go mad. In a way they had gone insane in order to save their sanity.

The memories of Dys were fleeting, terrible images glimpsed only in nightmares. Shut away somewhere deep inside their subconsciousness. They were still in Hell. Three circles lay yet ahead of them. If there were any shrinks here than they were certainly too busy undergoing eternal torture to help either of them. This was not the time to deal. This was the time to suppress and liberally apply selective memory.

Their bodies had long ago healed from the tortures they had suffered when their minds slowly started putting themselves together as well. Being in the presence of each other brought back memories, good memories. They knew they had been forced apart for long stretches of time in Dys, something neither of them wanted to go through ever again.

Neither of them could say how much time had passed since their escape, an escape neither of them even remembered, when he called her by her name.

"Buffy."

Just hearing him say it sparked more memories, helped her regain parts of herself she had almost lost. There were images of another world, one that was not filled exclusively with suffering and cruelty. A world of sunshine and blue skies, friends, family. Was this just a hallucination? Something she had made up to distract herself from the reality of this place?

Hell. This place was called Hell, that much she remembered. And, almost as if by contrast, she also remembered the name of her companion, someone who did not deserve to be here any more than she did.

"Angel."

Things progressed from there, slowly but surely. They remembered how they had gotten here. The loss of his soul. Akathler. Their battle. The return of his soul, only minutes too late. Buffy's decision to sacrifice him to save the world, to sacrifice both of them, for she would not let him go alone. Their arrival in Hell. The realization that it was almost exactly like the poet Dante had described it in his book. Which meant that there was a way out. A way for them to step outside and see once more the light of the stars.

They had crossed six circles already. How much time had passed? None of them could tell. Years, certainly, maybe even decades. They also remembered how they had entered Dys and been captured by the Furies. Everything after that was hazy, confused. There were glimpses of the torture, the separation, and the Furies' maddening laughter.

It was just as well that they did not remember much of it.

Finally they were coherent enough again to continue their journey. Dys lay behind them, whatever might have happened to them within its burning walls was now of the past. Six circles of Hell had not managed to stop them and they resolved that the last three would not manage, either. They would get out. They would see the light of the stars again.

The previous circles of Hell had always been separated by grey wasteland, huge stretches of nothingness that, safe for the occasionally glimpsed giant demon in the distance, was completely uninhabited. The area they were passing through this time was still grey, still empty, but one thing had changed.

The land in front of them now steeped noticeably downwards.

"Hell's circles are concentric," Angel muttered, remembering bits and pieces of Dante's book by now. "A funnel. With every circle we pass through we go deeper."

Buffy nodded. They had probably gone steadily downwards ever since the gates of Hell, but had not noticed so far. She also remembered part of the overall structure of Dante's Inferno now, remembered Angel teaching it to her over and over again until she could recite almost all the passages in her sleep.

The crimes of those imprisoned in Hell got worse and worse the deeper they went. So far they had faced the hells of those who, while certainly morally ambiguous, had not committed anything she would consider a capital crime. They had been greedy, angry, manipulative, gluttonous, or refused to believe that they were well and truly dead.

Now things would change, though.

The land fell steeper and steeper as they progressed and soon they could no longer walk but had to climb. Finally, after what seemed like ages, they approached the edges of a cliff, beyond which they could see a crimson glare and hear the screams of the suffering.

"The seventh circle of Hell," Buffy whispered.

Slowly they approached the edge of the cliff. By now both of them remembered who was imprisoned in this circle. Of all the regions of Hell they had passed through so far this might actually be the most fitting for them, considering how they had spent large parts of their life. They stopped at the very edge and looked down.

The cliff was tall, maybe a kilometre or more in height, giving them a spectacular view of the area beyond. A vast plain stretched beneath them as far as the eye could see, most of which was covered with giant pools of what Buffy first assumed was lava. A moment later she knew better, though, would have known better even without the extra enhancement to her senses Angel's blood had given her.

The air stank of blood. Boiling blood. They were looking down on a landscape of boiling blood.

All pieces of dry land they could see were filled with bodies. Millions and more people moved down there, surging back and forth like the surface of the ocean. Even from up here their enhanced hearing could pick up the screams, the clamour of forged steel, and the thunder of weapons' fire.

Buffy and Angel were looking down upon one giant ongoing battle, millions of soldiers and warriors fighting each other without pause, structure, or strategy. A vast medley of weapons, ranging from the first wooden clubs to the latest in military hardware, used to kill people that were already dead and rose over and over again, no matter how often they were torn to pieces.

"The Violent," Angel whispered, beholding the seemingly endless battlefield that lay before them.

The one they would have to cross if they wanted out of here.

#

The Present:

"I don't want to do this," Buffy said, staring at the object in her hand. The whole thing had not been her idea in the first place. She was fifty years old (give or take a few years, seeing as Hell had not had much in the way of calendars) and was personally responsible for the defence of the human race against vampires, demons, and the forces of darkness. She was living with a vampire, whose blood had preserved and lengthened her life, giving her that youthful appearance that belied her true age. 

Were those not enough reasons not to go through with this? She did not even want it, that alone should be more than enough. Who had time for something like this? Certainly not she, not with a new vampire master in town, not to mention Giles' suspicions that someone in or close to Sunnydale's city hall was trying to get Angel and her killed. She had a lot more important stuff to do than this.

Of course the woman standing beside her knew none of these things, which made it kind of hard to convince her of the inherit wrongness of it all.

"Just open it, Buffy," Danielle Burg said with a smile.

Buffy frowned. Her tutor, hand-picked by her mother when she had announced that the American public school system would not enjoy her participation any longer, was a hard woman to stay mad at. She had a disarming charm that a lot of people in politics would have killed for and, though Buffy hated to admit it, was pretty good at her job. 

Despite thirty years of education at Angel's hands during their sojourn in Hell Buffy's knowledge was still showing quite a few gaps. She knew pretty much everything there was to know about demons, spoke a dozen languages or more, had learned a lot about history and art, as well as the intricacies of vampire society and 18th century Ireland.

Unfortunately Angel, being who he was, had been rather lacking as a teacher when it came to things like math, the sciences, not to mention the more recent decades of history and modern literature. Before coming to Sunnydale he had been a recluse for nearly a century and it showed. Meaning that Buffy had needed help from a different source if she wanted to finish her interrupted high school education.

If one could call a thirty-year roundtrip through Hell an interruption.

"Just open it," Burg urged her again, still smiling.

Buffy sighed and surrendered, tearing open the envelope that contained her SAT scores.

TO BE CONTINUED


	2. Part 2 of 12

Part 2:

#

"Buffy, this is amazing," Joyce said with a proud smile on her face as she studied Buffy's SAT scores. Standing behind her Danielle Burg sported an equally proud look.

"Yeah, I guess." Buffy managed not to sound completely unenthusiastic. Barely.

"Buffy, with a score like that you can apply to any college you want," Joyce went on, though not unaware of her daughter's less than ecstatic mood.

"Aren't you happy that you did so good?" Burg asked, catching on as well.

"I'm happy," Buffy quickly assured them. "But ... what's the point, you know? I'm not going to go to college anyway."

Now her tutor looked really confused and Joyce's smile faded as well.

"Ms. Burg, could you give us a minute?"

"Uh ... yes, certainly."

Both Summers' women stayed silent until the tutor had left the room, then looked at each other with almost identical looks of frustration.

"You remember me telling you about not going to college, right?" Buffy asked pointedly.

"Yes," Joyce sighed. "I was just hoping that ... well, with you doing so well and ..."

"Mom, we've been over this. A hundred times. I agreed to finish my high school education, but that's it. What would I study in college anyway?"

"There are so many things ..."

Buffy took a step forward and grasped her mother by the shoulders.

"Mom, please! Do we really need to have this discussion again?"

Joyce shook her head after a moment's hesitation. No, they really had had this discussion often enough these last few months. She knew that Buffy would not be swayed and, if she was honest with herself, she fully understood her reasons.

Buffy would never have anything even remotely resembling a normal life. Odds had been bad even before her journey through hell, now they were practically nonexistent. Buffy was as old as Joyce was, maybe even older, and Buffy's mother had to admit that, at her age, she would certainly not want to go back to college again.

Buffy's life would not go Joyce had always wanted it to. It would not include a nice, normal husband and 2.5 kids. Instead it would include constant battles against demons and monsters, saving the world every other month. Buffy aged at a vastly decelerated rate, thanks to the demon blood in her veins, but she might be cut down this very night, or the next, or the one after that. 

Joyce would not be a mother if she were not reluctant to accept these facts, but facts they were. Even if Buffy could somehow be convinced to go to college it would not change them. At best it would be a pretence, yet another mask she would wear like those contact lenses that disguised her amber demon eyes.

"Very well," Joyce finally said. "But allow your old mother to be proud of your academic accomplishments once in a while, okay? It's not something I can really turn off."

Now Buffy smiled at her. "Okay! But you don't get to call yourself old, mom. I might well be older than you."

"Considering that you still look like a teenager that will only make me feel more self-conscious."

"I am still trying to convince Angel to sell 'Blood, Bottled' as the new anti-aging miracle, but I don't really see him going for it."

They shared a laugh and the tension was broken, at least for the moment. Buffy doubted that this was the last time they would have a discussion about this or a similar topic. Her mother was doing her best to accept Buffy's circumstances and choices in life, but every so often her old master plan of 'Let's give Buffy the perfect life' tried to reassert itself in her head. 

"Are you going to tell Ms. Burg," Buffy asked, "or should I?"

Buffy felt almost sorry for her tutor. Burg had looked so proud upon seeing Buffy's SAT scores.

"Let's do it together," Joyce offered. "I hope she's not too disappointed that her star pupil will not go on to conquer a college in her name."

The two Summers women smiled at each other and went in search of Ms. Burg.

#

"Oh, that is nice to hear," Mayor Richard Wilkins said. "Is there anything better than to watch our children as they excel?"

Well, he had to admit there were several better things he could think of at a moment's notice, but none of them were fit for a polite conversation with one of his employees. Especially one that did not need to know the full extent of his plans. There was no need to trouble too many people with the knowledge that most of them were liable to die within the next eight months.

"Keep up the good work, Ms. Burg," he told her over the phone. "I would love to see our good Ms. Summers earn enrolment in a really excellent college."

Not that she would ever have the opportunity to go there, he added silently. Again, not a topic for polite conversation.

When he had first heard about the return of the Slayer he had tried to get her out of his way in a rather crude manner: by sending assassins after. Looking back, he was a bit shocked that he had resorted to violence so very quickly. Something like that was not really befitting an elected official who held the trust of the people of Sunnydale.

He could always kill the Slayer and her friends later if it really had to be done. 

No, at this moment in time all parties were better served by leaving her alive and keeping an eye on her. He kind of regretted that his initial reaction had been to tell Snyder to keep her out of school. It would have been easy to keep her under observation there. 

Well, it no longer mattered. The past was the past and Danielle Burg was doing a fine job, would keep right on doing it until the young Ms. Summers finished her exams. Young ladies like her should really be concentrating on their education instead of getting in the way of things.

Besides, he reminded himself with a frown, having a Slayer or two around might not be the worst thing that could happen, considering who else was residing in his wonderful town at the moment. No, not the worst thing at all.

For what had to be the hundredth time in the last month or so he looked at the framed black-and-white photograph standing on his desk. For the longest time he had thought that the man standing beside him in that image was dead and gone. Unfortunately he knew better now and that worried him much, much more than all the Slayers and probably-soulful vampires in the world combined.

"Maybe I'll get lucky and the lovely Ms. Summers will take care of you, Sebastian," he addressed the photograph. "Or maybe even luckier and you will take care of each other. It would be nice for things to work out fine once in a while, don't you think?"

He frowned for a moment.

"God, Sebastian. Now you've got me talking out loud to myself, too."

#

The cat did not know that the very large, moving object that had almost barrelled it over was a car. A black Dodge Desoto FireFlite, to be exact, vintage 1958. Neither did it know that the object the car had hit was the 'Welcome to Sunnydale' sign, now so much wooden splinters. The fact that the sign had been replaced less than a year before after another unfortunate car-related incident - involving this very car actually - escaped it completely . Even if the cat had known all this, really, it would not have cared overmuch.

There were two things the cat did care about, though. One was the extremely offensive stink of alcohol coming its way as the car's door opened, causing about half a dozen empty bottles to fall out and smash on the sidewalk. The cat did not like the stink of alcohol and, in its experience, the two-foots who kept large amounts of alcohol close at hand were not among the most amiable of their kind. Case in point being the black-clad two-foot who stumbled out of the car a moment later and fell flat onto the sidewalk.

Moments later the second fact the cat cared about caused it to revise its earlier observation. This was not a two-foot, at least not one of the usual, sometimes amiable kind. This was one of the bloodsucking demon things that frequented these parts. Cats were really good at recognizing them, even when they hid inside the body of two-foots. The stink was rather unmistakable, even when masked by so much alcohol.

Usually the bloodsucking demon things did not bother cats, but this particular cat decided not to take the risk and made fast tracks away from the prone pretend-two-foot, taking its business for the night elsewhere. This decision, as well as its lacking knowledge when it came to two-foot languages, caused it to miss the first and only words the demon thing with the strangely-coloured hair uttered before passing out.

"Home, hic sweet home!"

TO BE CONTINUED


	3. Part 3 of 12

Part 3

#

Sebastian Khan surveyed the assembled crowd of vampires with the air of a king inspecting his loyal subjects. Which was not too far off base, he mused. Vampires were a pretty hierarchical lot and most of them did not have the brains to do anything but follow the alpha male wherever he led.

Which suited him just fine, so he did not really have any cause to bitch about it.

These last few weeks his followers had made his presence known around town, rather pointedly telling the rank and file of vampires that it was a good time to pledge their loyalty to the new master in town. It had been a little less easy than he had originally thought. Many of them still waited for Angelus to reclaim his position as master of Sunnydale. Not out of respect, really, but rather a healthy sense of self-preservation.

Angelus was still in town, that much was common knowledge, but no one was quite sure whose side he was on these days. Most of the evidence seemed to indicate he was once again the Slayer's lapdog, but there was contradictory information as well. Such as the rumours that he had made the Slayer his slave, or blood junkie as the common term went. That did not really go together with the image of soul-having do-gooder, did it?

Well, it did not really matter all that much. Those that still held some loyalty to Angelus were a definite minority by now. There was another faction, of course, those that had thrown in their lot with the man Sebastian Khan had come here to destroy. Richard Wilkins was a powerful figure, that much was certain, but he was not a vampire. Therefore those that had thrown in with him were regarded as traitors to their own kind. Something Khan had been happy to point out in his PR campaign to make himself the new master of this town.

The warehouse he had chosen to make his first speech as the new boss was quite a distance away from the building he used as his daytime retreat. Most of the rabble gathered here really did not need to know where he spent the daylight hours. Vampires could be made to talk, especially by persistent Slayers and other vampire masters. No sense giving them anything to talk about.

About thirty or so vampires altogether, not counting those that flanked Khan on the makeshift podium he had his men built for this speech. Unlike the rabble he had picked up here in this town his followers were of a different breed. Warrior vampires, called El Eliminati. Originally a duellist cult more interested in fighting amongst themselves than killing humans, they had become his acolytes even before Khan had been made into a vampire. Now they followed him loyally wherever he led and one of them was worth ten times his weight in average Sunnydale vampires.

Not that he would tell the rank and file that. Employees, especially those who worked without payment, needed to believe that their employer valued their work.

"I am glad so many of you have made the wise decision to come here tonight," Khan began his speech. "It is nice to see that there are some among our kind that still know how to set priorities for themselves. It warms my heart, figuratively speaking."

There were some chuckles among the audience and Khan smiled broadly.

"I know that some of you have had some reservations, mostly regarding the former master of this town, Angelus. I respect that. Loyalty is a virtue, and not of the kind evil needs to eradicate." More chuckles. "But let me ask you, where is Angelus' loyalty to you? I hear he is still in town, but when was the last time he took care of you?"

He allowed that to sink in for a moment before he continued.

"Then there are those of you who have chosen to follow the leadership of a human. Has it really come to this? Have you fallen so far that you would allow yourself to be commanded by those who we usually prey upon?"

His followers were, of course, aware of the hypocrisy of these words. When Khan had become their leader he, too, had been human. It was not a state of being that had lasted all that long. Khan had not chosen to become a vampire, but rather become one out of necessity. It was yet another issue he planned to address with a certain former friend of his.

"We are the destined rulers of this world," Khan went on, the vampires now hanging on his every word. "Yet in this town, the Hellmouth, the one place on Earth where we should be ruling supreme, vampires are hiding in fear of the Slayer and allow themselves to be ruled by humans."

He leaned forward on his podium. "Is it just me or is there something wrong with this picture?"

Sounds of assent could be heard from the listening vampires and Khan's smile grew broader.

"I intend to introduce some changes to this wonderful town. Changes that will make it a better place to live, figuratively speaking, for all vampires. Unfortunately it is not something that can happen overnight. Good things, no pun intended, always take time. With your help, though, we can make a start within the next two nights. We can take the first step towards reclaiming our supremacy. What do you say, people?"

#

The sound of applause followed Khan backstage as he left the gathering, quite content with himself. Most of what he had told his new followers was the truth. It was time to change things and they would be making the first step within the next two nights. So what if he had omitted a few facts? If he had told them that he fully expected all thirty of them to die within the next 48 hours it would only have depressed them. Depressed employees did not deliver quality work.

Elron, his faithful second, was walking by his side.

"An inspired speech, my Lord. I do believe you have them fully on your side."

"Thank you, Elron. It was quite catching, wasn't it?"

"Quite so, my Lord."

Khan shook his head with a smile. "People do not have enough appreciation for patience, have I ever told you that? It's always rush, rush, rush, even among our kind. One would think that, with eternity on our side, we would know better."

Elron refrained from commenting. He had served Khan long enough to recognize the start of a speech and knew that his lord and master hated to be interrupted. He was not averse to constructive criticism, but only if it was brought up afterwards. Interrupting Khan had cost more than one vampire his eternal life.

"Patience," Khan continued, talking to no one in particular, "is another of those virtues our kind would be wise to adopt, to hell with the whole evil issues. Good things are worth the wait, they certainly are." He looked at Elron. "Did I ever tell you how Dick and I came up with that whole Ascension plan all these years ago?"

"You mentioned it once or twice, my Lord."

"We knew it would take a while, yes we did. A century, give or take a few years. Now, most people would have abandoned a plan like that because they lack the patience necessary to pull it off. We knew better, though. A hundred years of waiting is more than worth it considering the payoff at the end, oh yes."

His smile grew wistful as they approached the exit, the limousine standing ready outside. Elron had already considered a route back to their daytime retreat that would allow them to pick up some hapless people on the way. Vampires had to drink, after all.

"Too bad you were so lacking in the patience department when it came to other things, Dick," Khan said with a nostalgic note to his voice. "I mean, yes, we both knew that only one person could reap the benefit of our plan, but still ... stabbing me in the back that early in the game? I would have waited at least another ten years before doing it to you."

He chuckled under his breath. "Only serves you right that your entire plan almost came crashing down around your ears thanks to that old fool Balthazar."

They reached the car and Elron opened the door for Khan.

"But I am patient," he sighed, settling back into the leather cushions. "Revenge is a dish best served cold, isn't it, Dick? I could have destroyed you at any time during the last 100 years, but that wouldn't have been fun, would it?"

His eyes focused on Elron again. "You know why I waited so long, right, Elron?"

Elron nodded. Of course he knew. He had listened to Khan recite his reasons often enough.

"You decided, my Lord, that revenge would be served best by letting your rival come within reach of his ultimate goal and then snatch it away from him."

"Exactly," Kahn said excitedly, snapping his fingers. "I imagine right now Dick is in a state of near-panic. Not only has he got his hands more than full with all the last-minute preparations, not to mention those pesky do-gooders calling his town home, but I'm sure he has also learned about my presence by now."

An evil smile crept onto Khan's face as his human mask slipped away and made room for his demon visage.

"Can you feel my cold breath on your neck, Dick? Can you feel my fangs at your throat?"

Throwing his head back, Khan laughed. Quite loudly so. One wouldn't be saying too much calling it a bellow. Elron endured his lord's laughter with the patience of a saint (he knew the value of patience, of course) and waited until Khan was finished.

"You did it again, my Lord," he then said.

"Did what?"

"Laughing out loud, my Lord, in a way more befitting a B-movie villain."

Khan slipped back into his human face, which looked a bit puzzled. "Maybe it's something about this place. I have to tell you, though, it does feel quite good. You should try it sometimes, Elron."

"I will give it consideration, my Lord."

"You do that. I trust everything has been prepared for our little event two nights from now?"

"Indeed, sir. All the cameras have been set up and concealed. We will be able to watch the battle live and in colour."

"Excellent. It's a great plan, isn't it? Simple, but great. I like simple plans. Less chance of things going wrong."

With a smile he was thinking of a particular plan, one century in length, that contained so many things that could go so wonderfully wrong. Especially now, this close to the finish line. Well, one thing after another.

"What do you think, Elron?" Khan asked, folding his hands behind his head as he leaned back. "Will our thirty unwitting pawns be able to cause any lasting damage?"

"A possibility, my Lord. Considering that they will be going up against two Slayers and a master vampire, though, I sort of doubt it."

Khan nodded. "Yes, I assume we can't exactly pray for one of them to make some sort of stupid mistake and get themselves killed. Well, that's not the point of this exercise anyway. Have you acquired the rest of the supplies we will need?"

"Certainly, my Lord. The large-screen TV will be delivered to the lair tomorrow, more than enough time to link it up. The new couch is already there and we have some snack runs scheduled for just before the event."

"Good. Very good."

Two nights from now Sebastian Khan would be getting his first long and thorough look at the opposition he was facing in this town. Thirty vampires should be enough to put the Slayers and Angelus through quite a workout. And if they should just happen to be killed, well...

Sometimes even vampires got lucky. Not often, but sometimes.

TO BE CONTINUED


	4. Part 4 of 12

Part 4 

#

Spike stumbled into the burnt-out factory, the world swimming before his eyes. It took a lot to get a vampire intoxicated, but after several weeks of near-nonstop drinking he had managed. He had also managed to acquire a certain kind of bodily odour, something that vampires, who didn't sweat, usually didn't really have to worry about. It was a combination of booze, smokes, and pure misery that clung to him and made even the rats scurry away.

"Drusilla," he yelled, slurring the name. "I'm home. Where are you?"

He swallowed a sip from his nearly empty bottle and phantom images danced before his eyes. Drusilla spinning through the room with a smile on her face, giggling as she spun Miss Edith around and around. 

"Have you brought me something pretty?" the phantom image asked him, smiling radiantly. Spike grinned in return, stumbling forward to take her into his arms.

He fell right through the hallucination and ended up prone on the floor. Screaming in protest he drove his fist deep into the blackened wooden planks, not caring that his knuckles split and his hands started bleeding.

"Drusilla," he roared again.

Spike had no clear memory of how he had managed to get back to his feet. He only knew that some undetermined amount of time later he found himself standing in front of a dusty old mansion. He stumbled forward and smashed open the patio doors, his boots scrunching the splintered glass beneath them.

The place was empty. Nothing there at all except some old bloodstains and a huge scorch mark on the ground. The faintest traces of scents, but he was much too far gone to make heads or tails of them.

"Where are you?" he challenged some unseen foe. "Come here so I can pound you into bloody paste!"

"Maybe I'll take you with me next time," a phantom of Angelus whispered to him with a cruel grin on its face. "Would be great when I need a really good parking space."

"You stupid wanker," Spike bellowed. "You just had to try and destroy the world, right? You just had to come back from being a bloody do-gooder and take Dru from me, right?"

He collapsed into a heap on the floor, digging his black fingernails into the stone.

"You think I'm afraid of you?" he growled under his breath, shortly before passing out right then and there.

#

Faith was doing a solo patrol to wrap up the night. Earlier she had gone with Buffy and Angel, the three of them kicking demon ass together, but every now and then she still liked to go out on her own. The reason for that was actually terribly simple.

Fighting alongside the couple was a rush, but one with a bittersweet tinge. The saying 'three's a crowd' had never been more accurate. Buffy and Angel had fought their way through all nine circles of Hell and a few run-of-the-mill vampires didn't even slow them down anymore. Not only that, but the way they communicated without words, how their shared looks spoke entire libraries, it made Faith feel superfluous.

Looking back over the months she had spent in Sunnydale so far, the bottom line was that it had been a good thing for her to come here. Sure, she had almost been killed on a number of occasions, but the good far outweighed the bad. She had friends now, true friends. She had something very close to a family, what with Giles now being her legal guardian and Mrs. S treating her almost as if she was her own daughter. She had people to fight beside, even if they sometime made her feel redundant.

What she didn't have, and what she couldn't help but long for, was someone who looked at her like Angel looked at Buffy. She knew that she had absolutely no right to complain. In her few short months in this town she had gained more than she ever thought she would have, but still ... people always wanted what they didn't have, right? Why should she be different?

Back in Boston she had averaged about one guy per week, sometimes more. Get some, get gone, that had been her motto. Always be the one to leave first, because then you wouldn't be the one who got left behind. It was the one lesson her bitch of a mother had taught her that she had fully taken to heart. Guys always left. Usually when things got tough and you really needed them.

She still believed that to be true, at least when it came to about 99 percent of the male population. It was the belief that there might be one percent where it was not true that was new for her. She wasn't exactly sure where that came from. Hearing of Angel and Buffy sticking together for their entire trip? Seeing that idiot Xander try and work past a truly giant mountain of mistakes and stupidity to get his friends back? Maybe it was this entire group of people she suddenly found herself a part of.

She chuckled at the absurdity of it all. A Slayer and a souled vampire. A witch and a werewolf. A prom queen and an A-class loser. A stuffy Brit and a mom that could have hailed right from a 50s sitcom. All thrown together and protecting the world, though some of them made larger contributions then others.

Where did that leave her? The second Slayer? She laughed. Maybe there was another non-evil vampire somewhere out there. Well, if he really did exist, odds were he would come here. This place was so weird that anything was possible.

#

The light of the rising sun slowly crept across the floor of the mansion, edging towards the slumbering vampire lying in the middle of it. At one time in the past Spike had complained about the many windows this place had, a state of affairs not favourable to creatures as averse to sunlight as vampires were. Unfortunately for him he had not thought about the windows before passing out, nor had the thought of the eventual rise of the sun ever entered his shrouded mind.

As a result he was quite unprepared for his hand suddenly bursting into flame when the sunlight touched it.

"BLOODY HELL," he yelled, jumping to his feet and looking for the nearest body of water. Finding none, he ran into the nearby bedroom and proceeded to smother the flames with one of the sheets. This stratagem, while successful in itself, caused the curtains, entangled with the sheets as they were, to slide open.

"AAAAH," he yelled again, quickly jumping back from the glaring light of the morning sun. Even a vampire, normally one of the most graceful creatures on the face of the Earth, did have certain coordination troubles when suffering from extended alcohol abuse. Therefore Spike lost his balance, cracked his head on the doorframe, and quite effectively knocked himself unconscious.

Fortunately for him his body came to rest in a spot where the sunlight wouldn't reach until much later in the afternoon.

#

Faith woke with a yawn, the light of the rising sun shining through the half-parted curtains. She was not a morning person, not even close, but today was one of the three days a week she had to get up early for those blasted study sessions Giles had forced upon her. That harpy of a tutor would give her that glare again if she was late and it was an exercise in self-control to keep from telling her how very much not intimidating that glare was. Getting up early was easier.

Despite Giles now being her legal guardian she still lived with Buffy's mom, a state of affairs that was not going to change anytime soon. Giles' apartment, while roomy, was not really intended for housing a teenager. Too many easily broken pieces of stuffy furniture, the complete absence of a TV, and the most modern piece of entertainment equipment Giles possessed being his old record player.

Seeing as Buffy didn't live here anymore Mrs. S had room to spare and didn't mind Faith using it. Faith actually believed that she was enjoying having a teenager to fuss over again. And Faith herself? Well, she would never admit it to a living soul, but being fussed over by someone who actually deserved the name 'mom'? She enjoyed it immensely.

A shower later she skipped down into the kitchen, said skipping being more a result of pent-up energy from last night's lack of vampires than anything even remotely resembling peppiness. Mrs. S was already there and the smell of pancakes filled the room.

"Good morning, Faith. Did you sleep well?"

"Like a rock, Mrs. S. I didn't wake you coming in again, did I?"

Faith knew very well that Joyce had developed the habit of sleeping with one eye open until she came home. She secretly loved it, but it made no sense for the woman to tire herself out that way, so she tried to cure her of that habit. Without success so far.

They ate breakfast and chatted amiably for a while, talking about nothing in particular. The weather, vampires, the art gallery, the demonic tutor, just your average stuff. Faith couldn't suppress a small smirk. By now Mrs. S was no doubt hoping that, this morning at least, she would not be subjected to Faith's daily ritual.

She started to rise, preparing to put the dishes in the machine, when Faith went in for the kill.

"Any new adventures with the G-man of late?"

Mrs. S furious blush told her, not for the first time, that her suspicions about what had happened between Mrs. S and the G-man during the infamous cursed candy night were absolutely correct.

Life was good.

#

Spike regained consciousness again and groaned, his head pounding from a combination of hangover and the big bruise he had gotten from colliding with the doorframe.

"Life stinks," he mumbled, slowly rising to his feet.

He really needed to kill something and soon.

  
TO BE CONTINUED


	5. Part 5 of 12

Part 5 

#

"Are you really sure you want to risk that?" Willow asked, looking at her boyfriend.

"It's worth the risk, Willow," he simply said, giving her an encouraging smile.

For weeks now Willow and Oz had worked on this spell they were about to perform. The idea had come to Oz after Amy's spell that had caused every single supernatural being in Sunnydale to lose its ability to appear human. It had transformed Oz into his wolf form, but he had somehow retained his human intelligence instead of becoming the wild and mindless beast he usually turned into.

Ever since then Willow and Oz had tried to duplicate the effect of that spell without plunging all of Sunnydale into chaos all over again. Their research had been hindered time and again by the various crises they had to deal with, but now they finally seemed to have made some headway.

Or maybe not. The only way to find out was to test it.

"It'll be perfectly safe," Oz told Willow from behind the metal grid of the book cage. School was over and no one except the two of them was in the building. "If something goes wrong I'll be in here, unable to hurt anyone."

Willow wasn't half as certain as her boyfriend appeared to be, but they had triple-checked everything. It should work. Oz, while unable to perform magic himself, was great when it came to research and putting spells together. With all the materials given to Willow by Amy before her death they had figured it out and it should work. It should.

She bit her lip, finally nodding. He was right, of course. It was worth the risk.

"Okay, here goes!" Willow took a moment to make sure that the book cage was really closed and the tranquilliser rifle close at hand. They had considered asking Buffy or someone else with superpowers to do this with them, but Willow didn't want to get into endless discussions on the risks this entailed. She had had them with Oz and now they were done. The last thing she needed was for one of her friends to disrupt her concentration at a crucial moment.

Sighing, she closed her eyes and concentrated on the spell they had worked out.

"King of the wild, goddess of the moon, we call upon thee! Grant this, thy creature, the boon he desires. Let the moonlight change his flesh, but not his thoughts. Let the call of the wild fill his blood, but spare his mind. This we beg of you. Hear our plea! So mote it be!"

Willow kept her eyes closed for another moment, feeling the energy pulsing along her fingers. She was still not one hundred percent comfortable with wielding such powerful magics. Levitating a pencil was one thing, but calling upon the king of the wild and the goddess of the moon? That was a different league.

Nothing seemed to happen, though. The feeling of power faded and she could hear nothing. Carefully she opened first one eye, peeking out at the book cage. Oz stood in there, flexing his hands as if he expected something to happen. He seemed unchanged.

"It didn't work," Willow pouted, sighing.

"I ... I'm not sure," Oz finally said, blinking. "I feel strange somehow. Almost as if ..."

The rest of the sentence was cut off as he doubled over, grunting in pain. Willow was on her feet in an instant, taking a step toward the book cage. Then she stopped, back-pedalling quickly. The skin on Oz' back split, fur welling forth from inside and spreading across his body like water. His scream became an animal growl and he fell to all fours, his hands and feet morphing into paws.

A moment later Willow was staring at a pony-sized werewolf inside the cage, the creature growling at her.

"Oz?" she asked hesitantly.

#

The Seventh Circle of the Inferno:

Buffy and Angel reached the bottom of the mile-high cliff after nearly two days of climbing. That was their estimate, at least. This region of Hell, just like all the others, didn't have a passage of night and day. They both feared that their internal clocks had long forgotten how to measure time.

From Dante's writings they knew that the Seventh Circle was threefold, the Violent categorized into three different groups. This first group, the one that populated the outer regions of the circle, was guilty of violence against their fellow men. Murderers, war makers, all those who relished in violence for its own sake.

"I don't get it," Buffy said, the two of them hiding behind several large outcroppings of rock at the edge of the massive ongoing battle that filled every square meter of available surface before them. "If these folks liked violence so much, how is it punishment for them to keep fighting for all eternity?"

Angel had spent some thought on that as well and, after observing the battle in front of them for several minutes, believed he had the answer.

"Look at them, Buffy," he just said. So she looked, watched as people were cut down over and over again, be it by steel, bullet, or bare hands. None of them stayed down. They rose and kept fighting. Over and over again.

"They don't stay dead, none of them."

"They're already dead. These people all inflicted violence to see their fellow men suffer. To see them bleed. To see them die."

Buffy nodded, understanding. "But here no one bleeds. No one dies. It's all just one giant exercise in futility."

"Exactly."

Buffy looked at the faces of the fighting men and women before her. There was no joy in any of them, none of the joy she had sometimes seen on those who gave themselves over to the pleasure of violence. She knew she was guilty of that particular crime, too. Her memories of Earth were dim and distant, but she remembered times when she had given herself completely to the joy of hunting down and killing the monsters, just so she could forget about all her personal problems for a time.

She imagined it wouldn't have been quite so thrilling if the monsters had gotten up over and over again to fight anew.

"Some of the newcomers here probably enjoy it," Angel mused. "For a while. Then the bitter reality of their situation sets in and it's just another form of torture."

"You realize we might be facing a really big problem here, right?"

He nodded. "I imagine there is nothing these people would like better than finally getting their hands on someone who can actually bleed and die."

"Someone like us, right?"

"Someone like us."

#

Buffy moved right into the small group of vampires, her sword nothing more than a shimmer of steel that moved too quickly for the naked eye to follow. She cut in vicious arcs, separating undead flesh from undead flesh in the span of a heartbeat. The vampires didn't need long to realize that they had made a grave mistake in not running for the hills the moment they saw her, but it was already too late for them.

Angel watched from some feet away, the one vampire he had gotten his hands on before Buffy could decapitate him now so much dust at his feet. Something was bothering his mate, that much was certain. Trying to distract herself from personal problems by immersing herself into the hunt and the kill was one of the few habits of hers that had survived their journey through hell intact.

Finally the last demon crumbled into dust and Buffy stood alone, sword still in hand, looking around for more prey. When she didn't find any she looked almost disappointed.

"Is it just me or are there fewer vampires around these last few days?" she asked Angel.

"Activity seems to have lessened a bit. I assume we have Sebastian Khan to thank for that."

It hadn't been too long since they had learned of the presence of a new master vampire in town. If the rumours were true it was a young one, barely more than a century old, but with the added bonus of knowing his witchcraft. Giles and Angel had gone through scenarios of what this might mean for their town. Usually, when a master tried to take over a territory, step one was always to eliminate the former master.

Which, in this case, meant Angelus.

"You think he's planning something big?" Buffy tried not to let her worry for Angel show too much. It was a moot point; they knew each other too well for that.

"He's probably still in the process of consolidating his hold on the town. I suspect many of the vampires will be lying low, looking to see who comes out on top before they commit to anyone."

Even though he hated doing it, Angel had played the role of Angelus several times in recent weeks. Visiting vampire hangouts, approaching groups of fledglings, letting them know in no uncertain terms that Sunnydale was still his town and that anyone who sided with Khan had nothing but a premature death to look forward to. He wasn't sure how much it really achieved. Vampires were still scared of him, but sooner or later they would wonder why their master never seemed to be killing humans anymore. Sooner or later one of them would get away from an encounter with him and Buffy, spilling the beans to the rest. At best it was a delaying tactic, nothing more.

Unfortunately they had had little luck in locating Khan's daylight retreat so far. Whatever Khan was up to, he was careful and kept himself well hidden.

"Khan is not the reason you are so upset, is he?" Angel asked.

Buffy looked down, wishing for more vampires to attack. Slicing and dicing the undead was always easier than dealing with her own feelings.

"Remember how I told you I got my SAT scores yesterday?" she asked, causing Angel to nod. There was a glint of pride in his eyes that his mate had done so well.

"Well," Buffy continued, "mom was all excited and kept talking about great colleges and such. I reminded her that I didn't plan to go to college. Then we told Ms. Burg and she seemed pretty disappointed, too. I just ..."

"Are you having second thoughts about not going to college, Buffy?"

She thought on that for a minute and then shook her head. "No, not really. I mean, I know I'll be missing out on a few fun parts, like frat parties and such, but I have no desire to spend the next few years in class rooms listening to lectures. No thanks! It's just ... I don't know."

Angel gave her a smile. "You just feel bad about disappointing people who believe in you, Buffy."

She looked up at him. "Do you think I'm letting my mom down by not going to college?"

"Nothing of the sort. It's your life, not your mother's. Wanting to make your parents proud of you is a good thing, Buffy, but it can't be your sole motivation for doing something."

Buffy knew that Angel was talking from experience. When Angel had been human he had done everything he could to make his father proud of him, to become the sort of person his father would have wanted. When it became obvious that it would never be he had turned around and gone full-steam in the other direction, doing everything he could think of to cause embarrassment for his father. Either way he had allowed his father to control his life and it had led him to a premature death in a filthy alley.

She moved up to him, wrapping her arms around his body as they slowly made their way home again. No, she didn't want to go to college. It would be just another mask, another effort to fool others and herself into thinking she might have such a thing as a normal life. She never would have and trying to pretend would only serve to ruin the life she had.

"We should go by the school," Buffy said as they walked off. "Willow said something about conducting an experiment there."

"An experiment?" Angel asked, sounding a tad worried. He was immensely thankful to Willow for restoring his soul all these many years ago (or months, as their friends here reckoned it), but he also recognized the danger she was exposing herself to. Magic was not something to toy around with and he wasn't sure whether Willow, for all her innate intelligence and talent, was really aware of the risks.

"Don't worry," Buffy told him, guessing his thoughts. "She got Oz with her. I'm sure everything is fine."

  
TO BE CONTINUED  



	6. Part 6 of 12

Part 6

#

Faith was hanging out at the Bronze, just moving to the music and intimidating bartenders until they were willing to swear every oath imaginable that she was 21 or any other age she might want to be. It wasn't like there was anything else to do for her right now.

The vampire situation was lousy, definitely not enough of the bloodsuckers around to keep three super-powered thrill-seekers busy. Okay, she amended; Angel probably didn't qualify for the title 'thrill-seeker'. He always fought all business, no wasted move, ending things as quickly as possible. Faith liked to draw out her fights, at least those where she wasn't outnumbered ten to one, and she knew Buffy liked a little extra fighting as well.

Point of the matter was that there simply wasn't enough action for her satisfaction, so she had decided to hit the Bronze and burn off some energy. The rest of the gang wasn't here. Willow and Oz were busy with some kind of experiment or other, Cordelia and Xander were on some kind of fence-mending not-date, and Buffy and Angel were probably getting busy right now. 

She refused to be depressed about being without a significant other of her own tonight. Well, she would probably be looking for some guy to get busy with before the night was through, but right now she just enjoyed moving to the music and drawing stares from all around.

Her guy-rate had gone down considerably since coming here, partially because of her ongoing preoccupation with the kind of relationship she had never had herself but was able to observe between Buffy and Angel. And partially because she didn't want to abuse Mrs. S' hospitality by bringing strangers into her home, but that was another matter entirely. Point was, she still had the urges, especially after patrol, but the 'get some, get gone' approach didn't really work for her anymore. Or at least not as good as it used to.

When the novelty of being ogled by high-school guys began to wear off Faith made her way off the dance floor and to the bar, yelling for another beer. This caused the guy sitting next to her to flinch away slightly.

"Cut out the yelling, will you?" He looked up. "And get me another beer, too, while you're at it!"

Faith stared at the Billy-Idol-wannabe and narrowed her eyes, catching some strange vibes from him. Then he hiccupped quite violently and almost fell off his stool. That, combined with the stench of alcohol that surrounded him like a cloud, managed to dispel all worries she might have had. She doubted any vampire or other demon would be stupid enough to get tanked in the Slayers' favourite hangout. Besides, she doubted vampires could get depressed. Except maybe Angel, but he was one of a kind.

"You know that the whole 'drown your hangover in alcohol' thing doesn't really work, right?" she asked him, sitting down on a stool of her own. The guy looked much too tanked to be of any use in the sack, but that didn't mean she couldn't have a little fun.

"Sod off," he mumbled. "What does a little thing like you know, anyway?"

Faith smiled broadly. This guy showed all the classic signs of someone in a deep bout of depression. 

"So what happened, Billy Idol? Not selling your albums like you used to?"

He gave her a withering glare, muttering something under his breath she didn't quite catch. Something about stupid kids ripping off his style.

"Ah, I got it," Faith said triumphantly. "Girl trouble, right? Did your better half ditch you?"

"She didn't ditch me," he roared at her, almost losing his balance again. "I left her, okay? I told her I wouldn't put up with this shit anymore and ... why the hell am I talking to you anyway? Sod off, okay? I'm not in the mood!"

"Oh, you're in a mood all right," she grinned, giving him a little shove that sufficed to send him tumbling off his stool. A string of obscenities followed all the way down to the floor as Faith chucked back the last of her beer.

"That's it," he growled, trying to get to his feet again. "Only so much I'm gonna take from a bit like you!"

"You gonna kick my ass?" She gave him an encouraging smile.

"I'm going to spank you black and blue you little ..."

"Let's start with a round of pool and we'll see where the night takes us, okay?"

#

Half an hour later Faith was in a pretty good mood, one that was apparently not shared by the Billy Idol wannabe. If anything he was even more depressed than before. It might have something to do with the fact that his pool skills had left a lot to be desired and, apart from losing pretty much all the money he had left, he had also been stupid enough to put his nifty leather coat on the line. Faith was trying out her newly won piece of apparel and it fit quite nicely.

"Write this up as a productive evening."

"This is getting better and better," the bleached guy mumbled, looking really pissed at her but too tanked to do much about it.

"Shouldn't brag when you can't back it up!"

He stumbled to his feet. "Okay, that's it! Give me back my coat!"

"No go, Billy! You lost it fair and square!"

"That wasn't fair! I'd have kicked your little ass if I were sober."

"Then you shouldn't have played until then, Billy!"

"You're playin' with fire here, girl!"

She looked at the swaying guy and shook her head.

"You know, Billy? Whoever that bitch is you're mooning over, she's either laughing her ass off right now because you're drowning in the blues over her, or she has forgotten about you entirely. Shit happens! Get over it!"

With that Faith decided to call it a night. The guy had turned out to be a lot less fun than anticipated, but at least she had gotten a new coat out of it. Turning around, she didn't even notice that the Billy Idol wannabe tried to lung at her, only to lose his balance and crash into the pool table.

#

Spike grumbled quite explicitly about the parentage of certain women as he fought back to his feet, but by the time he managed the vertical the brunette bitch that had ripped off his coat was already gone. 

"I don't believe this," he muttered to himself. Killed a Slayer to get the coat, lost it to a little girl because he was too tanked to shoot pool properly. Someone was having a lot of fun at his expense, that much was for sure.

Her parting words left him thinking, though, or the next-best thing his drunken state allowed him to achieve. He was behaving like a loser. Worse, he was behaving like a poof with a soul and too much time to brood. This was not going to go on.

Something had to be done. Drusilla was shagging it up with Chaos demons? Let her! He didn't need her. Only thing she had ever done was hold him back. He was Spike, damn it! William the friggin' Bloody! He had killed two Slayers with his bare hands (and lost his favourite trophy in a game of pool with a little girl, but that was beside the point).

No one would be laughing at him! Not him! Taking a deep and unnecessary breath he went through his mental list of things to do when he was in a bad mood. It was a really short list and most of the entries fell under one of two categories: Maiming and killing. Maiming wouldn't be enough right now, no sir! He really needed to kill someone right now. Preferably someone who really had it coming.

Okay! He didn't have a clue what had happened to the bloody Slayer and her idiot poof, but since the world was still here, odds were that the Slayer at least was still around. He'd find her! He'd kill her! He'd feel a lot better afterward. Then he'd find Dru, the Slayer's blood still on his fingers, and he'd spit on her while licking it off.

Sometime before that he'd really have to get his coat back. Preferably without getting Slayer blood on it.

Stumbling out of the Bronze, he tried to figure out a likely place for the Slayer to hang out right now. Probably patrolling, but there were so many cemeteries in this bloody burg that finding her there would be rather difficult. Much better idea to go to a place she would eventually turn up at and wait for her.

He smiled. Her mom's. The invitation she had given him when they had teamed up against the poof should still be in force. He doubted the bint had thought to revoke it. He'd go visit her mom, have a nice chat with her, and kill the Slayer once she got home. Yessir! He had a plan! A good plan! No little girl would call him a loser ever again.

Well, she hadn't technically called him a loser, but the message had been loud and clear. And no one called him a loser! And no one took his coat away from him! No one!

Swaying for a moment, he remembered where he wanted to go next and headed out.

TO BE CONTINUED


	7. Part 7 of 12

Part 7:

#

"Ah, Angel," Giles greeted the vampire. "Do come in."

The two men sat down on Giles' living room couch, two glasses of Scotch already prepared by the Watcher. Angel took but a moment to taste the drink, more out of courtesy than anything else. The alcohol slid smoothly down his throat, spreading a brief warmth through his cold chest, but did little to dispel his anxiety.

"I assume you did not call me over for a tasting," he said, setting down the glass.

"Quite correct. Where is Buffy?"

"She went to see Willow. Apparently there is some news regarding her and Oz' attempts to find a magical cure for his condition. I would have gone with her if not for your call."

"Good. Good."

Giles remained silent for a long moment, sipping his own drink. Angel didn't need to be a prophet to figure out what this talk would be about.

"You found something?" he finally asked.

"Yes. Yes, I did. I had to access some Council resources, I fear, but as far as they know this is about a vampire victim we have found, nothing worse than that."

Angel nodded, motioning for him to continue.

"It appears there has been a single case where a vampire fed his blood to a living human for a long time. Nearly a century, in fact. No names have been recorded and there are some doubts as to the accuracy of this account, but the symptoms described closely mirror what we have observed in Buffy so far."

There was no need for either of them to mention what these symptoms were. There were beneficial ones, certainly. Buffy would not have survived thirty years in the lethal environment of Hell without vampiric resistance to poisons Angel's blood had given her. It was also the main reason why, despite being roughly fifty years old, Buffy hardly looked any different than she had when they had originally gone through Akathler's portal. Her aging had been retarded to the point of near stand-still.

There were less welcome symptoms as well, though. The cosmetic changes Buffy had had to endure, her shifted eyes and elongated fangs, were but the most outward of them. There was her temper, which now carried a demonic edge, as well as the violent spasms she would have to endure if she went to long without Angel's blood.

And none of them knew what other changes might yet befall her. She was still taking Angel's blood at regular intervalls, she had to, and they both suspected it would cause them further grief.

"What can we expect then?"

The two men shared a long look, their shared worry over the long-term effects Angel's blood would have on the woman they both loved, though in very different ways, almost tangible in the air between them. Despite the knowledge that Buffy would have died in Hell without the vampiric traits Angel had shared with her, Giles could not help but hold a certain amount of resentment regarding the vampire and his Slayer as well.

Angel, for his part, still spent many an hour wondering if things wouldn't have turned out better if Buffy hadn't chosen to follow him into Hell. Still, both of them were pragmatic enough to put their issues aside and try to come up with some sort of solution to the problem that presented itself to them in the here and now.

"There is no telling," Giles began, "what effect Buffy's being the Slayer will have on the process. There is still a lot even the Council does not know about what it means to be the Chosen One. If she follows the same path as that single recorded case then the symptoms we have seen so far will only intensify with time."

"Her temper?" Angel asked.

"Among other things, yes. Her aging process will slow down further, her sensitivity to sunlight will become worse, she may even develop an aversion to holy objects."

Angel nodded, having expected as much.

"Will she become a full vampire?"

"No, that is about the only piece of good news I have found. Until and unless she physically dies she will not transform completely."

Angel wanted to sigh in relief, but somehow it didn't happen quite yet. There were too many worrying things still on his mind.

"How much of her humanity will we lose in the process?" he asked.

Giles closed his eyes, taking off his glasses to massage the bridge of his nose.

"We can't know for sure. The recorded case speaks of the victim growing more feral, more demonic, growing increasingly less compassionate and ... well, human. We have no idea, though, what kind of person this victim was to begin with."

"Buffy has told me she often feels conflicted," Angel said, "as if she has to fight the demonic presence within her blood for control."

"Has she lost control so far?" Giles asked, worried.

"Not as such, no. Her temper sometimes slips away from her, but she can usually rein it in again in short order. Her slip-up with Xander right after we came back was the worst of it."

"I'm glad to hear that. Still, we should assume the worst."

Angel nodded. For a long minute neither man said anything, both of them knowing what had to be said next. What they had to do next.

"Buffy must stop drinking my blood," Angel finally said it.

Even speaking the words caused him almost physical pain. He was a man, but he was also a vampire. For the demon part of him the sharing of blood with his beloved was as intimate, if not more so, than sex. When she fastened her small mouth to drink at his neck, when he sank his fangs into her warm flesh ... in Hell it had been a piece of Heaven. The experience had not lessened any here on Earth.

"It won't be that easy," Giles said, tearing him out of his thoughts.

Angel knew that much. Buffy experienced violent withdrawal symptoms every time she didn't drink from him soon enough. Shivers, spasms, emotional outbreaks, loss of all rational thought. They usually managed to share blood often enough to prevent these attacks from happening and, even if they did, they subsided quickly once Buffy drank from him again.

Now they were talking about her never drinking from him again.

"Vampires usually feed their blood to humans to keep them under control." Angel looked at Giles. "The victims will do anything for their next fix."

"The records say as much," Giles agreed. "There are even stories of people dying because they didn't get another sip. It's quite ... unnerving."

"What about that case you mentioned? Did he or she stop drinking blood?"

"No, I'm afraid not. The victim, a man, committed suicide after his vampire master was killed. It appears he couldn't stand the thought of never drinking his blood again."

Angel took another sip of the Scotch. "Not a good omen."

"I think we agree that simply ... cutting Buffy off will not do."

"She is strong, but ... I don't know if she would survive it."

"How much blood does she usually take and how often?"

Something inside rebelled against telling Giles these intimate details of Buffy and him, but he quickly pushed those thoughts away. No matter the resentments the Watcher might hold, he was working to help them. To help Buffy.

"The amount is hard to measure, Giles. We share blood about every two days and ... we never timed it, I'm afraid. The experience ... time ceases to have meaning while we drink from each other."

The Watcher nodded, making some notes on a piece of paper he had produced from somewhere.

"We are entering virgin territory here, but I think our best chance lies with treating this as we would a normal drug withdrawal. You must try and lessen the amount of blood you share with her, Angel, as well as extend the time period between sharings."

"I don't know if the latter will be possible, Giles. Every time we go too long she goes into spasms. It's almost like clockwork."

A hard look came onto Giles' face. "Then I'm afraid we have no choice but to make Buffy endure these attacks for a time."

Angel rose, his demon face threatening to spill past his human mask. "No, Giles! Under no circumstances will I let her suffer like this."

Giles rose as well, not inching back from the enraged vampire.

"Angel, this will not be pretty either way! Buffy will suffer. There is no getting around that. Do you think I want her to? Do you?"

For a moment the vampire seemed poised to attack, but then visibly deflated.

"No, I know you don't want that."

Giles put a hand on his shoulder.

"This will not be easy for any of us, especially Buffy. It will hurt terribly. Maybe she'll even start to hate us. We must be able to endure. For her. It's the only way."

It's not the only way. A growling voice inside Angel's mind whispered these words to him. Let her continue to drink. Let her change. If she were human she'd be dead by now. You would have lost her decades ago. What do you care if she isn't as shiny human as her friends want her to be? She could be with you forever and you know she wants that, too.

Angel shook his head. That was the demon talking. He could hear him roar in pleasure every single time Buffy's sweet blood ran down his throat, a hundred times more intoxicating than Giles' Scotch. But he was not the demon. And if he did nothing than he would lose Buffy, lose the person she was.

That he could never do.

"I will talk this through with her," Angel said, regaining his composure. "We will try and limit the sharings as much as we can."

"Good! I will keep looking for some other way to cure her of the addiction, but I believe this is our best shot."

Angel simply nodded, leaving without another word. His thoughts were swirling with images of Buffy in pain, going through the spasms of withdrawal. He would have to do this to her. He would do this and withhold the thing that would make it stop.

"Maybe Hell will get the last laugh after all," he muttered to himself.

All the demons of the Inferno couldn't have dreamed up a better way to make them suffer.

TO BE CONTINUED


	8. Part 8 of 12

Part 8:

#

Spike approached the Summers' home, almost steady on his feet again, the buzz of alcohol slowly starting to wear off. He knew he'd have to drink again soon or he'd sober up, which would inevitably bring him pain, both the emotional and the hangover kind. He wasn't in the mood for any of that. He was in the mood for some payback.

The house looked exactly like he remembered, but something was off. He paused for a moment, closing his eyes and taking a deep whiff of the air around him. Vampires were very good at remembering scents and that of the Slayer was burned into his memory beyond hope of ever forgetting it. The funny thing was that, while he did catch some traces of it here, it was much too faint. No way the girl was still living here.

He paused, trying to think. Was she dead? Had his poof of a Sire managed to kill her after all? A smile bloomed on his face. Seeing as the world was still here she must have managed to stop him. Had they killed each other? That would be the best possible outcome of that weird night as far as he was concerned.

Something else confused him, though. There was another scent here beside that of the Slayer's mom. Quite a strong one, too, indicating that its owner spent quite a lot of time here. A moment later he recognized the scent. It had filled his nostrils only an hour or so ago. The little brat who had ripped off his coat. What was she doing here?

For a long moment he tried to think past the haze of alcohol clouding his brain. There had been something funny about the brat, a kind of buzzing somewhere in the back of his head. Almost as if ... nah, couldn't be, could it? Okay, he knew the score with the whole 'one dies, another is called' thing, but why would a new Slayer put down roots in the old one's mom's house? It didn't make any sense.

Quite suddenly he was intrigued, quite a bit so. If the brat was a Slayer, well, he might have just found the perfect outlet for all his pent-up frustration. He needed to look her up anyway to get his coat back and if he could get a little Slayer-killing in ... this might actually shape up to be a decent vacation after all.

First thing first, though. He had come here for a reason and his new discoveries didn't mean he should simply abandon his plan, simple as it was. If nothing else the Slayer's mom should be able to tell him what was up with this new girl, given the proper incentive, of course. Information was half the battle.

Finding what resolve huge amounts of alcohol had left him with he strolled towards the house.

#

The large group of vampires was observing the Summers' home from a distance, far enough away that a passing Slayer's senses wouldn't pick them up. None of them knew why they were observing this particular house or what connection its sole occupant had to the Slayers or Angelus, but they didn't really care much. They were following orders and were good at it.

Khan had only told them that the Slayers were likely to turn up here sooner or later. He had received this information from Mr. Trick, a vampire who had worked Sunnydale before and had, in turn, gotten the information from the Mayor of Sunnydale himself. Khan saw a certain amount of divine justice in using his greatest rival's intelligence for his own gains.

The vampires knew none of this, of course. They only knew that the Slayers were liable to turn up here and, once they did, they were to kill them and Angelus. That was all they needed to know.

Some among the group had been around Sunnydale for quite some time. They had served the various masters that had held sway over it these last few years and had been lucky enough to survive the various encounters with the Slayer these masters had had. So it was of little wonder that several among the vampires quickly recognized the bleached blonde vampire currently stumbling toward the house they were observing.

"That's Spike," one of them whispered.

"I know who that is, dickhead! What are we gonna do now?"

The decision what to do was reached quickly and unanimously. One of them carried a cell phone and they used it to call Khan (or his assistant Elron, rather) and ask for further orders. Elron, after a quick conference with Khan, relayed the order to sit tight and wait for the targets to turn up. Spike was of no consequence to their plan. He might even prove helpful, a distraction.

#

Joyce Summers suppressed a yawn and went to answer the ringing phone. It was quite late already and she played with the thought of going to bed, but knew that it wouldn't happen. She was never able to sleep until she knew that Faith was home safe and sound. This was only partially out of concern for the young girl she had come to regard as something of an adoptive daughter. It was also because she knew that, if Faith made it home safe, odds were nothing had happened to Buffy, either.

As if on cue her daughter's voice rang from the receiver as she picked it up.

"Buffy? Is something wrong?"

"Not as such, no. Sorry to bother you this late, mom. Is Faith home already?"

"Faith? No, she isn't. I thought you were patrolling together?"

"We normally do, but it was a slow night, so we decided to split up. Anyway, I'm really just calling because I wanted to tell her something. It can wait until tomorrow."

"Do you want me to tell her when she gets here?"

There was a slight pause. "Yeah, why not. Remember how I told you about Oz being a werewolf?"

Joyce remembered that very well. After everything that had gone wrong between mother and daughter, the two had decided to keep no more secrets from each other. For Joyce this meant full induction into her daughter's world, including the knowledge that most of her friends were not as harmless as they appeared. Giles a member of an ancient organization that battled evil, Willow a witch, and Oz a werewolf. She didn't know the quiet youth very well, but he was the last she would have suspected of transforming into a raging beast.

"Did something happen to him?" Joyce asked.

"Something did, yeah. Willow tried to come up with a spell so he would be able to control his transformation. What she didn't tell us what that she was going to give it a try tonight."

"My God! Did it go all right?"

"More or less. They're both okay, but ... well, I'm not sure I got it all myself, really. Anyway, just wanted to let Faith know that our favourite cute couple were working the voodoo tonight. Just in case she caught some of the mojo they were flinging around or gets a bad tingle the next time she meets Oz. Willow will give us the full low-down tomorrow."

Joyce took a deep breath. A lot of times she still felt very much out of sorts whenever Buffy told her about such things as magic, spells, and monsters. She also felt that her daughter had rediscovered her old speech patterns with a little bit too much assistance from Faith.

"I will try and relay that to Faith once she gets here. I assume you have one of your Scooby meetings scheduled for tomorrow?"

"Yeah, same Scooby time, same Scooby place, same Scooby channel."

"Good. I'll tell her ..."

"Hello, Joyce," a British-tinged voice said from behind her, causing her to whirl around.

#

"Mom?" Buffy screamed into the receiver. It had been thirty years, subjectively, since she had heard that voice, but she recognized it all the same.

"Buffy, what's wrong?" Angel came over to her, clearly sensing her distress. He had only just arrived at the library after meeting Giles. Willow and Oz, the latter of whom in the process of putting his clothes back on, also looked up.

"Spike," she whispered, dread in her voice. "Spike is in mom's house."

TO BE CONTINUED


	9. Part 9 of 12

Part 9:

#

Faith was on her way home after one last round through the cemeteries, having found no one to play with. It appeared all the vampires were staying in tonight, which was kind of sad. She had hoped for a chance to try out how her newly acquired coat worked out in a fight. She was thinking something along the lines of Batman, who always used his long cape to distract the crooks until his fists came out of nowhere.

Well, she thought, even if it doesn't help with the fighting, it sure looks wicked cool.

She was but a short distance away from home when she noticed the car screeching to a halt right in front of the Summers' house. She knew that car very well. It was the black convertible Angel had shown them last week. Why he needed a car in a town where just about everything was in walking distance was anyone's guess, but Faith liked the ride. Angel, Buffy, Willow, and Oz poured out of the vehicle.

"What's the what?" she yelled, quickly catching up to them.

Buffy didn't even seem to notice her, she was immediately making strides towards the front door, her face a mask of worry. Angel was by her side like a shadow. Willow and Oz took a moment to look at her.

"Spike! A vampire! He's in there with Mrs. Summers."

That was all Faith needed to hear.

#

"She just up and left you?" Joyce asked.

"Yeah," Spike answered, taking a sip of hot chocolate from the cute frog mug she had put in front of him. "Just ... she didn't even try to kill me before she left. I mean, is that too much to ask? Just a little hint that she still cares?"

His head bent over the mug he couldn't help but sob. "She just told me ... we could still be friends."

Joyce sat down next to him, patting his back. This was very bizarre, she mused. She knew that this man, Spike, was not really a man. He was a monster, a vampire, and unlike Angel he didn't have a soul or anything else to keep him from killing her. Yes, he had worked together with Buffy some months ago, but Joyce had been given the whole story about that and knew he hadn't done it out of the goodness of his heart.

She was also quite aware that her life was hanging by a thread right now. Instead of panicking, though, she did her best to console the heart-broken vampire. It was pretty much the only thing she could think of that might buy her some time until Buffy or Faith got here.

Besides, Spike really seemed to be broken-hearted and the mom-part of her couldn't help but want to console him.

"I doubt she would have said something like that if she didn't mean to hurt you," she said, trying to apply the strange reverse-logic Spike seemed to use when it came to his love life. "She had to know it would, you know. Doesn't that tell you something?"

"Then why is she fooling around with creatures like that?" he asked, exasperated. "I caught her on a park bench, making out with a Chaos demon. Have you ever seen a Chaos demon?"

"I don't think I ..."

"There all ... slimy. With antlers. Ugly buggers. And she ... she wasn't even embarrassed. I told her ... I told her I didn't have to put up with stuff like that."

"You shouldn't," she told him. "A relationship is about mutual trust."

"That's what I've been saying, but she doesn't trust me anymore. All about that stupid truce with Buffy. Said I wasn't demon enough for her anymore. Said I was getting soft and ... she said she had to find her pleasures somewhere and that I ... that I could no longer ..."

He broke down into a sob.

"Breaking up is hard," Joyce said after a while, seeing the splatter of tears on the table. "When I divorced Buffy's father, he and I ..."

"That's different," Spike snarled. "Dru and me were supposed to last forever. Century after century until the end of time. And we would, if not for that entire business with Angel and Buffy and that stone git. Everything would have been all right if not ... oh, who am I bloody kidding?"

He brushed his tears away with the sleeve of his red shirt.

"He always came first in her heart, you know? I was just too blind to see it. When he got all souly I thought she'd finally gotten over it, but no. The moment he came back ... why am I putting up with this? I should be my own man ... demon ... whatever. I don't need ... need ..."

His head shot up, looking at Joyce. "You got anymore of those little marshmallows?"

"I'll have to check. Are you going to be ..."

"All right? No, but thank you for asking. It's nice to know that someone understands what I'm ..."

"You're even more pathetic than I remember, Spike," a new voice suddenly growled.

Joyce looked at the kitchen entrance and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Buffy, Faith, and Angel standing there, the latter with demon face in full ascendance and growling at Spike. Behind them she caught a brief glimpse of Willow and Oz.

"Him?" Faith asked suddenly, a look of disbelief on her face. "That's the dangerous vampire you told me about? That drunken loser?"

Spike looked up, glaring at Faith.

"Who're you calling a loser, slut? I want my coat back!"

His eyes turned toward Buffy and Angel.

"And you two? Back together again? Great, the harps are gonna start playing any moment now. Shoulda known I wouldn't be so lucky as to find that the two of you killed each ..." His voice trailed off as his eyes fixed on Buffy. More specifically her changed eyes and fangs. "Bloody hell!"

"You shouldn't have come back, Spike," Buffy now growled at him. "One free pass was all you got. This time you're leaving by way of a vacuum cleaner."

Spike suddenly laughed, holding his sides as he shook with hilarity.

"I can't believe you, peaches," he managed between fits. "All these months you couldn't kill her and now? Instead of turning her properly you made her a blood junky? This is too rich, really! You're killing me."

"Happy to oblige," Angel growled. A moment later he was airborne, launching himself across the kitchen table and at Spike. The momentum carried both him and Spike right through the kitchen window and to the outside.

"Are you all right?" Buffy asked Joyce, stopping for a moment even as Faith barrelled past her to join the two battling vampires outside.

"He didn't hurt me. He seemed really ... are you sure he's a murdering demon?"

"Judging solely by what I just saw, no, but I know him a bit better than that. I'll be right back."

Outside Faith had yet to join the battle, as Angel and Spike were so entangled that she was afraid to hit the wrong person. The two vampires snarled and growled, laying into each other with vicious blows and seemingly without care to whatever hits they received in return.

"Bad blood between them, huh?" Faith asked Buffy as she joined her.

"They couldn't even stand each other when they were both soulless."

Finally the two Slayers went in and pulled the two vampires apart, Buffy throwing Spike into a nearby tree as hard as she could. She could clearly hear a rib break, but Spike was back on his feet in a moment.

"What happened, peaches?" he asked, sounding amused and angry as hell at the same time. "Gave her a taste of the good stuff to get your kicks? Or weren't your wrinklies big enough to make her fully into one of us?"

"It ends tonight, Spike," Angel snarled back. "You won't leave here alive."

He was about to jump into battle again when the night around them suddenly came alive. Dozens of vampires emerged from the surrounding bushes, quickly encircling their prey Buffy counted over thirty of them, all in demon face and looking ready for a fight.

"Well," Spike said, clearly as surprised by their appearance as anyone else. "Welcome to the club."

In a warehouse on the other side of town Sebastian Khan sat on a couch and watched the proceedings on a big screen TV, the corpse of a pizza delivery man cooling at his feet.

  
"And the game is on," he mused, licking the last splatters of blood from his lips.

TO BE CONTINUED


	10. Part 10 of 12

Part 10:

#

Hell: The Seventh Circle

Being a vampire Angel needed very little sleep. Buffy, having been changed by the steady infusion of Angel's demon blood, also needed much less rest than back in her human days. That was a good thing, too, seeing as they hadn't gotten very much sleep in several weeks now.

Ever since arriving in the Seventh Circle they had faced one major problem: This was the home of the violent, those who had lived and died by the sword (or whatever other weapon had been handy at the time). They were spending eternity in a senseless fight, killing and dying over and over again without any purpose, as their wounds always healed, just as their victims' did. Imagine their joy if they were to find two people in their midst who could still die.

Whatever ground wasn't covered with boiling blood in this part of Hell was used for battle. A massive, surging tide of bodies engaged in ceaseless combat. There was no way to sneak past them. No way to go around them. The only way for Buffy and Angel to go was right through them. Realizing this they had arrived at the only possible strategy.

They had started at the very edge of the Circle, pulling aside a warrior here, a soldier there, immobilizing him or her and convincing them, by whatever means necessary, to join them in a fun caper. Not that the dead needed much convincing. Anything was better than fighting on and on without cause. Buffy and Angel found that giving them a cause, even one as flimsy as "get through the Circle and reach the other side", was more than enough to get them motivated.

Within days they had recruited an entire army and began a campaign to cut a swath right through the Circle. Many warriors joined their battle the moment they saw them, just as many decided to oppose them, though. Stopping this impromptu army that sought to introduce organised fighting to this region of Hell seemed to be as popular a cause as joining them. Soon most of the Seventh Circle was swept up in Buffy and Angel's gambit.

Buffy and Angel were always in the thick of things, but were careful to remain one step behind the front lines. They were the leaders, shouting encouragement to their troops such as "take that pass between the two blood lakes" and "just one more push and we'll have taken the mountain range". At all times, though, they had to be careful never to get seriously hurt themselves. If their soldiers realized that their generals could die ... odds were everyone in this region of Hell would turn on them in a hurry.

Things got more interesting, though, when the Centaurs got involved. Led by Chiron, the ruler of this Circle of Hell, the half-man, half-horse beasts were the stewards of the Violent. Most of the times this meant they were to make sure that none of them left the Circle. Armed with bow and arrows they herded their charges back into battle, sometimes joined in when the frenzy of combat seemed to lessen.

The Centaurs were not amused, apparently, by the notion of someone bringing order to this massive display of chaotic violence. Soon the massive beasts were tearing away at what little organisation Buffy and Angel had brought to the fight and their army threatened to splinter. 

That was, though, until they encountered one of the generals. Angel, hovering in a near-constant frenzy due to the boiling blood all around him, wasted little time putting the sword that had sent him here to good use when one of the Centaurs got too close to him and Buffy. The blade, forged to kill demons and close dimensional rifts, penetrated the Centaur's thick skin with ease and sent him tumbling down, bleeding, dying.

Which was of much fascination to the denizens of the Circle.

Within moments everything turned around and the damned attacked their keepers with abandon. The Centaurs could die. Somehow that notion had never occurred to the prisoners before, but now they had seen it. It took hundreds, sometimes thousands of the damned to bring down a single one of the massive demon horses, but numbers they had in abundance. And what if they were struck down? They were already dead.

Neither Buffy nor Angel could tell how long they fought their way through this endless melee. Months, certainly, maybe years. The plains of the Seventh Circle seemed endless and there were always more Centaurs, more warriors that refused to join them, new recruits that needed to be told what to do and whom to fight in this landscape of boiling blood and killing screams.

By the time they finally reached the edges of the plains and left the endless battle behind both Buffy and Angel were well and truly sick of fighting. They knew they'd have to do it again, probably. They had crossed but one third of Hell's Seventh Circle so far, the prison of those who had been violent against others. They would still have to cross the dark woods of those who had been violent against themselves and the burning desert of those who had been violent against God. And once they managed that they were still two circles of Hell left to go, probably the most dangerous ones yet. 

Still, for now they laid down their arms and simply rested, both thinking that they'd die happy if only they'd never have to raise a weapon ever again.

#

Buffy took but a moment to size up the opposing force. About thirty vampires, most of them looking like the kind of riffraff she'd normally see on her patrols. Dressed in street clothing, some of it pretty dated, and giving off vibes that said 'minion', not 'master'. Individually none of them would pose much of a threat. Unfortunately there were quite a lot of them.

She also spotted three or four among their number who looked different. They wore some kind of uniform and carried swords on their hips. She dimly remembered Angel saying something about some kind of warrior vampires working for Sebastian Khan. Could that be them? They looked and felt tougher than the others, but were hanging back. Field commanders? Or merely observers?

And then there was still Spike to consider.

With a side glance she took in Willow, Oz, and Joyce, standing on the back veranda. The door to the kitchen was directly behind them.

"Get inside," Buffy told them without taking her eyes off the attackers. "They can't follow you uninvited."

Joyce and Willow quickly complied, but Oz hang back. Buffy knew that Willow and he had performed some kind of spell to help him control his werewolf side, but there hadn't been time for any details before Joyce's phone call and Spike arriving at the Summers home. So Buffy was rather surprised when Oz calmly shrugged his shirt off and threw it aside, then stepped down off the veranda to join the back-to-back circle of Faith, Angel, and Buffy.

"What do you think you're doing?" Buffy hissed at him.

"Helping my friends," he said. "Now that I finally can."

Without further words he tensed, his skin began to ripple and change. Fur sprouted all over his body, his face lengthened into a snout with vicious teeth. Buffy barely managed to keep her eyes on the enemies, all of whom watched Oz in rapt fascination.

The transformation took but seconds and the first thing that came to mind for Buffy was that Oz looked different from the last time she had seen him as a werewolf. Instead of the four-legged beast with barely discernable human features he now stood upright, looking like something between man and wolf. There was also the gleam of intelligence in his eyes.

"Wicked," Faith cackled. "I wouldn't mind a set of claws like that."

Buffy had a bad feeling about involving Oz in this, but it seemed the decision had been taken out of her hands. Besides, against numbers like this, they couldn't afford to send anyone back to the locker room.

"Will you look at that," Spike said, standing a few feet away from both the Scoobies and the gathered vampires. "Where are the times when an evil bloke had to face but one Slayer? Now we got multiple Slayers, goody-two-shoe vampires, and werewolves to boot. You really threw the rule book out the window, didn't you? No wonder nobody likes you lot."

"I wouldn't laugh, Spike," Angel growled at him. "From the looks of things you aren't exactly a favourite in these parts anymore, either."

Spike had not failed to notice that he was being surrounded, too, and the vampires seemed very unfriendly toward him.

"Come on, mates," he told them, spreading his arms in a gesture of comradeship. "You wouldn't harm a fellow soulless evildoer, right?"

"You're days are done, Spike," one of the vampires growled. "We don't need vampires who make deals with the Slayer around here."

Spike made a face and huffed. "That's great. Hold that against me! This town has certainly changed for the worse."

He turned to look at Buffy and Angel. "What do you say, mates? How about a team-up for old time's sake? I promise never to come back to Sunnydale afterwards."

"You promised that before."

"Well, yes, but this time I really mean it."

Angel, who hadn't bothered returning to his human face after his initial brawl with Spike, just growled, but Buffy gave him a grin.

"Well, if that's the case, of course we can team up."

"Great! I knew you wouldn't hold too much of a grudge, Slayer. And Peaches, you'll see, we'll be a terror like back in the old days and ..."

Spike couldn't finish the sentence before Buffy grabbed him and threw him bodily into the ranks of the attackers, tumbling them over like bowling pins.

"Up and at'em," Faith yelled, jumping into the fray with Spike's ripped-off coat flapping behind her like a cape.

Moments later the battle was underway.

TO BE CONTINUED


	11. Part 11 of 12

Part 11: 

#

Xander was not involved in any kind of life-or-death battle at the moment (nor did he know that most of his friends were, for that matter), but that did not mean that his evening was stress-free. After the events surrounding vampire Amy trying to kill him (and still agonizing over being largely to blame for her death) Cordelia and he had managed to bridge some of the distance between them. Since things were nowhere near back to normal, though, they decided on what Cordelia had termed a 'potentially fence-mending non-date' for tonight.

In some ways, he mused, a life-or-death battle would have been preferable.

The largest part of the evening so far had been spent in one of Sunnydale's few Italian restaurants, paid for by what little remained of Xander's monthly allowance (said allowance being what money remained once his parents finished their liquor purchases) and no more than a dozen or so words had been exchanged. He wouldn't go so far as to call the silence 'icy', but it was definitely not comfortable, either. All in all he was rather uncertain as to how this evening was going so far.

His own emotions were kind of confused, too. On one hand he did want to get back together with Cordelia. He liked her a lot. During the months they had been together he had come to realize how much of her bitchy exterior was just an act. The person underneath was one he could genuinely be fond of.

On the other hand, though, he could not help but wonder what kind of future they could have together. Even setting aside the distinct possibility that one of them or both might not survive to graduate Sunnydale High School, he had little doubt that Cordelia would go to college. Her daddy would pay all the fees and her grades, while not spectacular, were good enough. He, though, would definitely not see college, neither money- nor grade-wise, and probably spend the rest of his life working in low-income jobs.

Then there was the whole jealousy issue. Xander could not deny it, even after all this time he still had feelings for Buffy. He was over the crush he'd once had on her (or mostly, anyway), but he still loved her dearly as a friend. His resentment regarding the whole Angel-issue was still there, of course, but it wouldn't stop him from going to her aid whenever she needed it. Would Cordelia ever be able to live with that? She had accused him of holding her second place in his heart while Buffy was number one. Was she really wrong?

Xander didn't know it, but Cordelia's thoughts closely paralleled his own. Xander had been the first boy in her life who had taken the time to get to know her, the real her. He hadn't been put off by her bitchiness and brought out the courage in her to send the sheep of Sunnydale High packing. In some ways she was really fond of him, but was it love? Was it anything that would hold long-term?

Cordelia knew that she was spoiled when it came to guys. Most of the boyfriends she'd had in the past had worshipped the ground she walked on. Granted, they had only seen the Queen of High School, not the person, but it had been flattering still. Xander was different. He was fond of her, yes, but wouldn't hesitate to leave her standing in the rain if Buffy or Willow were in danger and needed help. Not that she could honestly blame him for being a good friend, but still ...

There was something else as well, another person that had recently come to occupy a place in her heart, but Cordelia was quite hesitant to even approach those thoughts too closely, much less allow them to influence her relationship (what there was of it) with Xander. 

The evening might have gone on this way for a long time, but something else came up. Something both of them were very rather thankful for, truth be told, as a distraction was very much welcome right now. That distraction was a complaint coming from the kitchen.

"I don't believe that lazy boy," the restaurant owner thundered. "He was supposed to be back here an hour ago. Where is he?"

Xander was only listening because it gave him something else to do but muse on his own confusing feelings, but the answer given to the owner by his head waiter sparked his interest quite thoroughly.

"He was supposed to deliver five pizzas to one Mr. Khan. He should have been back by now."

Xander and Cordelia looked at each other, both instantly recognizing the name. It had come up quite often during the last few Scooby meetings. The newest master vampire in town, apparently in the process of uniting all the different factions that had come into existence after Angelus' departure to curse-ville. What were the odds of there being more than one guy named Khan living in a town the size of Sunnydale?

On a personal level Xander and Cordelia had more problems than could fit into a very thick book, but when it came to Scooby matters they had managed to develop a kind of instant understanding that needed no more words. Cordelia rose from the table, sauntering over to the waiter to inquire about the state of their food and flirt a little for good measure. Which left Xander ample opportunity to look through the address book lying on the counter.

The one that contained a delivery address for one Khan, Sebastian.

#

The battle, though intense, didn't last all that long. The thirty or so vampires had been coached to expect two Slayers and a rogue vampire. What they faced was those three, plus a werewolf, plus another vampire that took great relish in kicking ass. As if that wasn't enough there were those two females standing safely inside the kitchen door, one of whom had procured a crossbow from somewhere (Buffy's weapon chest to be exact) and was taking pot-shots at them. Their numbers were dwindling fast.

It didn't help that the three vampires from Khan's personal guard, the guys with the big swords, made no move to get involved. They watched from a distance, shouting words of encouragement now and then, but otherwise did nothing to aid them.

Eventually even the dimmest among the vampires came to realize that they had been set up. If Khan really wanted these people dead he would have sent all his elite warriors along and they would have gotten involved in a big way instead of just watching. Khan had talked about a grand destiny for vampires, but apparently that destiny was not to include them, for he had sent them right into a meat grinder.

"I should be mad at you guys," Spike growled at Buffy and Angel between blows. "Make me fight my brethren? Lucky for you I really needed to kick some ass tonight and these sorry losers will do."

"Just come here and I'll give you an ass-kicking you'll never forget," Buffy growled back at him, but there were still too many vampires between them for her to get at Spike. Angel was fighting like a man possessed, mostly trying to get at Spike, but the platinum-haired vampire somehow managed to stay out of reach. The air around them was filled with dust and the growls and screams of vampires.

"So tell me," Faith asked Buffy when they found themselves back-to-back. "Does this kind of thing happen to you often? Drunken ex-archenemies turning up and getting you involved in major brawls with every two-bit loser in Sunnydale?"

"Nah, normally my ex-archenemies are dust. Spike is the only one pathetic enough to come back drunk and mooning."

"Hey, I heard that," the vampire in question protested.

"You were supposed to."

Faith laughed even as she staked another vampire.

"You have to admit, Billy, you are pretty pathetic."

"Will you stop it with the Billy-thing? The name's Spike, girl! I killed two Slayers in my time!"

"Yeah, and lost your coat shooting pool with another. They should put that into the Watcher diaries, too."

"Just tell Giles," Buffy offered. "He'll make sure it gets in there."

Spike was torn between getting out while the getting was good and making things even with that dark-haired Slayer brat, not to mention the blonde one and the brooding poof. He was starting to sober up, though, and had to admit that the odds were not looking good. There were nearly no vampires left of the thirty who had attacked and the do-gooders, while bruised and exhausted, still outnumbered him four to one, not to mention that he was bruised and exhausted, too.

Could he really leave his coat behind, though? It was his favourite trophy.

"Shit happens! Get over it!" Faith's earlier words echoed in his mind. Yes, things hadn't been going his way for quite some time now. Getting himself dusted here and now wouldn't change that. No, what he needed to do was make some changes. Get himself back together. And he couldn't do that here, not without dying in the process.

Well, he mused, being a vampire meant he always had time.

"Take good care of my coat, bitch," he yelled at Faith. "I'll be back for it before you know it."

And with that he took advantage of the thinning ranks of the attackers and headed for the hills. He would be back. Oh yes, he would be back. But other things would have to come first. Find Dru. Spit on her. Get over her. Get back in shape. Kill a few people. Then he would come back and reclaim his coat. He was already looking forward to it.

"So long, mates!"

"Somebody stop him!" Angel tried to get past the throng of attackers, but there were still enough of them to keep all of the Scoobies occupied until it was too late. When the dust finally settled Spike was nowhere to be seen and neither were the three sword-carrying vampires they had seen earlier.

"Okay, that was a good work-out," Faith said, stretching until her bruised ribs protested. A colourful shiner was forming on her face. Looking at the others, all of them had their own wounds to nurse. Even Oz, who was transforming back into human form as she watched. His upper body was covered in bruises, but the look on his face almost seemed like a smile.

"You were great," Willow cheered happily as she came out for a big hug. Oz said nothing, but he positively beamed. By his standards, anyway.

Angel walked up beside Faith, taking in the coat she was wearing. It had held up quite well during the fight. She could get used to this look.

"You need to be careful," Angel told her. "Spike might have come across as a drunken loser today, but if he gets his act back together he'll be very dangerous. And he will be back for that coat. He took it from the second Slayer he killed."

That put a small damper on Faith's good mood, but she quickly chased the sombre thoughts away. "Well, if he took it from a Slayer, it's only right that another Slayer swiped it back from him. Besides, when he comes back, he'll have more than a single Slayer to deal with, right?"

Buffy nodded and the two Slayers high-fived.

"Guys! Guys!" All heads turned to take in the two new arrivals. Xander and Cordelia were getting out of Cordy's car, running and looked quite excited.

"You won't believe what we found," Xander panted, coming to a stop beside them. "We ..."

Only now did he notice the bruised state of his friends, plus the amounts of dust covering the lawn in front of the Summers home.

"We missed something, didn't we?" Cordy asked. "Typical! Nothing happens for weeks and the one evening we're not here you guys go and have fun without us."

Faith grinned at her. "Don't worry, C! You only missed a drunken Billy-Idol-wannabe, a squad of losers, and some serious ass-kicking by Yours Truly."

"Hey," Buffy mock-protested. "What about the rest of us?"

"Yes," Willow chirped in. "Oz was great! He got all wolfy and tore some vampires apart with his bare hands. Or claws. Or something that looked like a cross between hands and claws, really. Maybe we need a special name for that. Something like 'clands'. No, that sounds too much like glands, which would be icky and ... and you're supposed to stop me when I start babbling like that."

Oz smiled at her. "You're cute when you babble."

Buffy noticed that Angel wasn't in on the good mood.

"What is it? Spike got away, but I'm sure he'll be back. We'll get him next time. And I'll have Willow revoke the invitation to the house, so mom will be safe."

"It's not that. Well, not just that. It was those vampires."

"Those losers? We took care of them."

He nodded. "We did. And it was too easy. Those three uniformed vampires just watched. This wasn't a serious attack, Buffy, it was just a test. Khan wanted to see what he is up against. And I'm also worried that he seems to know that this is your old home. Or Faith's current one, anyway. He knows too much about us and we too little about him."

"Well, we might have something for you there," Xander interjected with a triumphant look on his face.

"You do?" Buffy asked, looking doubtful. Her anger toward Xander had started to fade as of late, but was far from gone.

"Yeah! Khan might be a big player, but he doesn't cover his tracks well."

"Will you get to the point?"

Xander produced a piece of paper from his pocket.

"Guess who ordered five pizzas, to be delivered to an address in Sunnydale's beautiful warehouse district?"

#

Khan, watching the TV screen in front of him, was not amused.

"Elron?" he asked the vampire sitting next to him in a chillingly neutral tone.

"My lord?" Elron replied, trying unsuccessfully to shrink back into the cushions and out of sight.

"You used my name for the pizza delivery?"

  
TO BE CONCLUDED  



	12. Part 12 of 12

Part 12: 

#

Sebastian Khan looked around his new daylight retreat and was not a happy man. He didn't like it if things didn't go according to plan and having to abandon his home in the middle of the night to stay ahead of a possible raid by the Slayers definitely fell in that category.

His new home was an old turn-of-the-century mansion, just a little outside town. He had learned that Angelus had occupied a similar building during his reign over Sunnydale, not even that far away from here. With any luck the Slayers would keep searching in the warehouse district.

"My lord?"

Khan looked up to see Henry, his third-in-command approaching.

"Ah, Henry. Tell me, how is dear Elron today?"

"Recovering, my lord. The surgeon believes he will regain full use of both arms and legs within the next two weeks."

"Good, good. Capable help is hard to find, Henry. I hope Elron will take this lesson to heart and be a better person for it in the future."

"I'm certain he will be, my lord."

"Have all the men seen the video recording of the Slayers and Angelus yet?"

"Yes, my lord."

"What is the general opinion?"

Henry took a moment to order his thoughts, then cleared his throat. "My lord, the men feel that the combination of the Slayers, Angelus, and that werewolf is a potent threat that needs to be dealt with. The majority of them would not say no to a decisive, full-scale attack on them, preferably a surprising one from behind."

Khan nodded. "Yes, I expected them to react that way. Our enemies certainly handled that attack with effectiveness and style, did they not?"

"Yes, my lord."

"To tell you the truth, Henry, a large part of me would also feel much better if we killed them sooner rather than later, but I like to believe that I am above such reckless impulsiveness."

Henry mused on that. "My lord, are you implying there will be no attack?"

"Not at the moment, Henry, no. Do not forget that we have bigger fish to fry here in Sunnydale. The Slayers and Angelus are a hindrance, nothing more. For the moment my plans are better served by keeping them alive. As long as they live they will bring distraction to our primary enemy."

Khan walked over to his desk and took out an old notebook. The pages were yellowed, but well-preserved. The chapters were numbered, beginning with 1900, ending with 1999. Each chapter held a checklist. Briefly browsing through the chapters showed that only the final chapter, 1999, still held unchecked items, but quite a few of them.

"So many things still left for you to do, Richard, my old friend. So many things to go wrong."

Henry watched in silence as Khan threw back his head to laugh, quite loudly so. Taking it in stride, he silently had to agree with Elron. This couldn't be healthy.

#

Buffy was not in the best sort of mood to begin with. Their attack on Sebastian Khan's supposed hideout had been a bust. Oh, it had clearly been a vampire's daylight retreat. There had been enough items left over to show that more than a few undead guys had hung out there not too long ago, not least of them the dead and drained body of a pizza delivery man. The place had looked like it had been abandoned in a hurry. 

With no one to pound on for daring to attack her childhood home, however ineffectually, Buffy was left with a feeling of frustration. She had been looking forward to a quiet evening at home with Angel, but it appeared that wasn't necessarily in the cards, either, as Giles had come by and it seemed Angel was expecting him.

"Okay, you two! What's up?"

"Buffy," Giles began. "I have done a lot of research regarding your ... condition. The effects of Angel's blood on you and where it might go."

He briefly filled her on the things he had found out, the single recorded case of a human's long-term exposure to vampire blood and how it ended. It didn't sound good.

"I assume you guys have come up with a plan?" she asked the two men. "One you haven't filled me in on yet."

"I wanted to talk to you about it last night," Angel said with an apologetic air, "but some other things came up."

"Yeah, I kind of remember. So, what's the plan?"

They told her. Buffy didn't like it one bit. Angel and she drinking from each other ... it was an experience almost more enjoyable than sex. Their essences mixing, flowing into one another almost like a single organism ... for nearly thirty years (or so their estimate regarding their time in hell went) they had shared blood about every two days. Thinking that they would have to stop ...

Closing her eyes, she could almost feel the changes at work within her. Slowly, gradually, but continuously. The fangs, the eyes, everything. She was wearing contact lenses almost constantly now, which helped fool people into believing everything was okay, including herself sometimes. But things were not okay. She could feel the demon blood working inside of her. Every day.

Still, no longer drinking from Angel? Leaving all other things aside, wouldn't that mean she'd start aging again? Angel would remain eternally young, but she would grow old. Everything inside her screamed in protest at that thought. Still, was there anything to be gained by living forever if she was no longer herself?

"You guys got a twelve-step program all worked out?" she asked, trying to sound optimistic.

Giles gave her a sympathetic look. "We know very little about what is happening to you, Buffy, but we feel that a standard drug-withdrawal procedure is our best shot. It doesn't mean stopping from one day to the next. It means lessening the dosage gradually, lengthening the periods between sharings."

Buffy nodded, though everything inside her was tightening at the thought. Angel looked at her, both of them knowing that tonight it was time for another sharing of blood. Would they be able to put it off? To lessen the amount of blood they shared? She didn't know.

"I'd best be leaving now," Giles said, apparently sensing what was going on between them. "Let me know if there is anything I can do."

Giving him a brief hug Buffy accompanied him to the door and let him out, locking up behind him. Patrol for tonight was done and most of the others had to prepare for school tomorrow anyway, leaving just the two of them.

"I don't like this either, Buffy," Angel said solemnly, "but we have to do something."

"I know," she answered. Looking at her hands she could see the trembling was already beginning. "Just hold me, okay?"

Angel wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight. It was just a few minutes later when Buffy began to shake like a leaf. This, Angel mused darkly, was not going to be easy.

#

Faith was hanging up her newly-acquired coat when Joyce came into her room, handing her some kind of spray can.

"What the fu... I mean, what is that?"

Joyce gave her a proud smile. She was slowly but surely succeeding in getting Faith to stop swearing with every second word.

"It's to impregnate the leather. Make it last longer."

"Angel said Spike picked this thing up in '77. Looks good for a twenty-year-old coat, doesn't it? He must have taken good care of it."

Joyce's face grew a little sombre.

"Faith, I know it isn't my place, but ... you are not considering ..."

"Considering what?" Faith gave her a clueless look.

"I mean ... you told me you met Spike in the Bronze and ... well, from what you said it seemed you might ... and even now that you know he is a vampire ... are you ... I mean, do you find him ...?"

Faith, finally getting a clue what Joyce was getting at, burst out laughing.

"Mrs. S, are you asking me if I have a thing for Spike?"

"Well, ... I mean ... what with Buffy ..."

"Don't worry about that, Mrs. S. One thing Buffy and I definitely do not have in common is a thing for vampires. The idea of sleeping with one ... eew!"

Joyce gave a relieved sigh.

"Although," Faith added with an impish grin. "He did look quite yummy, didn't he?"

For a moment Joyce stared at her, then gave a grin of her own. "If he were alive I wouldn't push him off my bed."

Faith's eyes nearly popped out of her head.

"Mrs. S! You can't say stuff like that! It's just not ... it's not right!"

Joyce just laughed.

#

Xander was putting off going home by shelving some books in the library. Too bad the raid on Khan's daylight retreat had been a bust, but at least they had inconvenienced the town's newest big bad somewhat. It had to count for something.

He was still thinking about his interrupted non-date with Cordelia. Nothing had been resolved, nothing at all. At least not at the date itself. Something else had become increasingly clear to him that night, though.

After the fight he had seen Willow look at Oz, so proud of him for having conquered his curse to the point where he could use it to help his friends. He had seen Angel and Buffy look at each other for the hundredth time and could no longer ignore the love shining in the blonde Slayer's eyes.

It had forced him to admit one thing: He had never looked at Cordelia that way. And unless he was very much mistaken she had never looked at him that way, either. They cared for each other, yes, but love? No, love wasn't what was between them. Attraction, chemistry, a knack for getting on each other's nerves, but that was it.

He wanted to regain Cordelia's respect. He wanted her to know that she had not played second fiddle in his heart, which she hadn't. She just hadn't played a solo first fiddle. All of which left him with an interesting problem:

How did you tell a girl that you didn't regard her as second best while at the same time telling her that you don't think it a good idea to get back together?

#

Richard Wilkins had just heard about the sharp decline in the vampire population of Sunnydale that happened last night and wasn't pleased. Thirty vampires didn't just get themselves organized and attacked the Slayer's home because there was nothing good on TV. No, this was the handwork of a master vampire.

"What are you up to, Sebastian?" he asked no one in particular.

Things would have looked better, of course, if the Slayer and her posse had actually been killed, but that hadn't happened. Nor, he figured, had that been Sebastian's plan to begin with. What little he knew of his old friend's movements during the last century had had him lying low, staying out of trouble. Only recently had he made a name for himself. To his knowledge Sebastian had never faced a Slayer before.

Had this been a test? A stratagem to measure the effectiveness of this town's self-proclaimed defenders? If so, what did he have in mind? Would he approach them for help to take Wilkins down? Would he eliminate them before they could get in the way of his revenge? Was he planning something else altogether?

Sighing, Wilkins sat down behind his desk. Hindsight was always perfect. In hindsight, trying to kill Sebastian all these decades ago had been a mistake. Not because it was a bad idea per se, but because he hadn't done it properly. Sebastian had lived long enough to be made into a vampire and now came back to haunt him at the most critical juncture of his plan.

"The sins of our past," he murmured, looking out the window at the sleeping city. His city. Built and preserved for a single purpose. One that was now in jeopardy. 

After some minutes he reached a decision. He couldn't afford to remain on the defensive in this. There were too many important tasks left for him to do in the next few months. Distractions could prove fatal at this point. No, he needed to be proactive. After all, the whole world would be a better place if a few more people got off their buts and put in some honest work toward their future. He intended to do just that. Well, except maybe the honest part.

When Angelus and the Slayer had first returned from wherever they had been off to during the summer he had tried to have them killed. It had failed spectacularly. Then, after learning of Sebastian's arrival in town, he had decided to leave them alive, hoping they would take care of his old friend. It seemed, though, that this would not happen anytime soon and his time was running out. He had a spy in their camp, the lovely Ms. Burg, but so far that hadn't born too many fruits, either. 

There was nothing he could do about Sebastian right now, but unless he was very much mistaken there was a way to put a damper on the Slayer. Not kill her, no. That option could be kept open until all others had failed. Just a few roadblocks for now.

Picking up his phone he called in his secretary, the new one hired after that unfortunate night when all the demons became unmasked.

"Mrs. Zimmerman? I need to contact someone, but I'm afraid I do not have a current phone number. Would you please try and find the number of one Quentin Travers? I believe he resides in London. Yes, the one in England."

#

On a road leading out of Sunnydale a black Dodge DeSoto was racing along well past the speed limit, loud rock music ringing out from inside. Spike, a cigarette hanging from the side of his mouth, was singing along to Gary Oldman's rock version of "My Way", pounding the steering wheel.

"And more," he yelled, "much more than this, I did it MYYYYYYY WAAAAAAYYYY!"

  
THE END

  
Excedo Inferi continues in: All Roads Lead Back to Hell

Buffy and Angel are not the only ones who have wondered a thousand times over what might have happened had Xander told the Slayer about the imminent return of Angel's soul on the day Akathler awoke. Now, thanks to a vengeance demon called Anyanka, they find out. No one will like the answer.  



End file.
